


an alderaanian interlude

by thatsouthernanthem



Series: hold on, hold on [3]
Category: Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, F/M, Gen, Multi, Stirrings, did you feel some bail/obi-wan/breha in here or was that just me, galactic news, mentions of the skywalkers, obi-wan finds that he really likes alcohol, space breakfast, the imperial au, this table is MAHOGHONY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 10:43:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5925535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsouthernanthem/pseuds/thatsouthernanthem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the royal palace of alderaan hosts a guest. </p>
<p>he's kind of drunk and a mess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	an alderaanian interlude

In retrospect, Bail Prestor Organa really should not have shown Obi-Wan Kenobi where the alcohol is kept. 

He can't really blame him, of course, as they watch the Empire's banner being raised over the former Jedi Temple, as they watch Obi-Wan's apprentice (brother, best friend) stand next to Emperor Palpatine. As they watch Anakin's formerly secret wife stand next to them with a deadness in her eyes that hurt Bail, as they catch glimpses of the newborns cradled in their arms. 

_Actually,_ Bail thinks as he pinches the bridge of his nose and reaches for the decanter of whiskey on the table. _He might have the right idea_.

Obi-Wan nods sagely at Bail's decision and jabs a finger toward the holo-screen. "This is enough," he slurs, "To make me want to drink every day of the rest of my miserable life." 

"It's like watching an alternate reality play out before me." Bail mutters, squinting at the screen. "She looks miserable, doesn't she?"

"And why wouldn't she?!" the Jedi Master sits up, sloppily, suddenly irate. "Everything she ever fought for, gone. And she's forced to stand there, like...like she's been a part of this the whole time. I doubt she even knew." 

Bail watches the other man, frowning. He looks beaten -- he didn't know what had been going on with Anakin either. They all suspected something between the young man and Padme, but _this_? 

He reaches over to close his hand over Obi-Wan's. 

Obi-Wan just snorts and shuts his eyes.

* * *

Three months later, Bail is eating breakfast with his wife beside him, when Obi-Wan comes flying in through the double-doors. 

Bail winces as Obi-Wan tosses a datapad toward him, the metal clanking on the antique wood table. "Obi--"

"Have you seen this?!" The other man snaps as he gestures wildly at the datapad. Breha gives Bail a _look_.

"No, Obi-Wan, I tend to not read the news during breakfast. Breha says it's bad for my stress levels." 

"That and he tends to turn into a raging mess when he does so. Much like you are now, Master Jedi." Breha says, softly. She reaches for the datapad, turns it over and after a moment of reading, whispers a soft "oh" before handing it to Bail. 

He frowns at both of them. Then he reads what is before him: 

_SKYWALKER TWINS NAMED PRINCE AND PRINCESS OF EMPIRE -- EXCLUSIVE HOLOS_.

And the worst part about this is that it's a reputable news source...it's not sludge news like he'd expect. And there they are, in holographic proof, the three-month-old Skywalker twins, sitting in the laps of their parents. 

Scratching at his goatee, Bail sighs heavily as he takes in Padme, with the boy--Luke, he thinks--in her arms. Her eyes are sad, vacant still. She looks like she's lost weight, the intricate gown hanging on her strangely. 

And then he looks at Anakin, who looks like he always has, except...stronger. Like being under Palpatine's thumb was good for him. He looked almost happy, with his daughter--Leia--in his lap. Swallowing hard, Bail sneaks a glance at Obi-Wan and feels his heart tug at the sight before him. 

The red-headed man leans heavily against the heavy wooden table, his fingers pressing into his eyes, his beard wild and unkempt. The man reeks of alcohol and he seems to be barely able to hold himself upright (though Bail is unsure if that is actual drunkness or just the weight of _everything_ on the man's shoulders). 

"Obi-Wan," Breha stands, coming around the table. "You are torturing yourself." She places her hands on the younger man's arms. "Please, stop watching their every move. You cannot do this to yourself." 

"I should have been able to stop this!" Obi-Wan hisses, shaking in Breha's grasp. "He was my apprentice, he--"

"He is a grown man." Breha's fingers tighten on his arms as Bail comes to stand next to her. "He made his decisions. And now, now he will have to live with them. Live with turning his back on every friend and family member he has ever known. Live with denying his wife the things _she_ loves, live with his children growing up in the shadow of a maniac. You do not also have to live with these things."

Bail's hand joins Breha's on Obi-Wan's arm, and he can feel the younger man relax slightly into their touch. He looks up at them, eyes red-rimmed and he looks _exhausted_.

"I do not deserve you," he whispers, looking away. "I do not deserve the kindness you have shown me...I have made your home a target I--"

"Obi-Wan!" Bail intones, shaking his head. "No. A sanction came down upon Alderaan the day after Palpatine's rise. He was always going to try to stifle those planets and peoples he knew he could not control. You are our friend, and you are no burden to us." 

Breha nods and begins to back Obi-Wan into a chair. "Now, sit down, and eat breakfast. You look like death." 

The man barely grumbles as she sits him down and waves a servant over to bring him something to eat. Bail smiles softly at the scene before him and takes his own chair again.

* * *

It's surprisingly easy to get Obi-Wan sober again after nearly four months of drinking everything in the household. It may have a lot to do with the fact that whatever Obi-Wan hasn't drank, Bail has locked away in a safe. 

It's a lot of grumbling, and many upset stomachs, but they all get him through it. There's a familiarity between the three of them now -- Bail, Obi-Wan and Breha -- that works very well. They surround Obi-Wan with love and caring...they are his new family. 

Right now, Bail is watching Obi-Wan stare at the sunset in the distance, his face illuminated by the oranges and reds of the sky. Narrowing his eyes, Bail stares at him longer, seemingly confused by something. 

"You're staring," Obi-Wan mumbles, scratching at his beard. "You and Breha do that a lot." 

Bail tilts his head, considering. They do stare a lot. At him, and then around him, at each other. It's probably just worry for the poor man. He has been through a lot. "Just making sure you're alright." 

"Give me a while yet," he whispers, folding his arms protectively over his chest. "I'm not sure I'm ready to resign myself to this galaxy yet." 

At this, Bail laughs quietly and reaches out to touch Obi-Wan's hand. "Oh, my dear Master Kenobi. Who ever said we were ever going to let this galaxy ever passively happen?"

Their eyes meet, and Obi-Wan's mouth falls open slightly. "I should have guessed that, shouldn't I? Where do we begin?"

Bail smiles. "We start small, a quiet rebellion in continuing to live like Palpatine has not affected us. Then we get more and more to join our ideas. And maybe we make contact with some old friends." 

"Well," Obi-Wan breathes. "I think I can help with that."


End file.
